


My melody.

by mugongeki



Category: Saint Seiya, 聖闘士星矢: 冥王神話 | Saint Seiya: The Lost Canvas
Genre: M/M, no beta we die like gold saints
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:21:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25753489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mugongeki/pseuds/mugongeki
Summary: He looked almost shocked when Albafica approached him. Even if he did recognize it, he didn’t show it on his face.There was something terribly familiar in those bright, golden eyes, the sensation so strong he couldn’t shake it off his shoulders.“I want to be your teacher.”Their journey began.
Relationships: Aries Shion/Pisces Albafica
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11
Collections: SAINT SEIYA WEEK 2020





	My melody.

**Author's Note:**

> Work written for SAINT SEIYA WEEK 2020
> 
> Day 3: modern au, celebrity, soulmate
> 
> -
> 
> I'm gonna be real, I haven't proof read it even once, I hate it and feel like I wasted the potential lol but here we go

“So! What do you think about him? Talented, huh?” Manigoldo wrapped arm around his shoulders, but Albafica quickly shook it off, sending him a scolding gaze. First of all, he despised physical contact with everyone. Even with someone that claimed to be his best friend. Second of all, they were in public. They sat atop the sitting places, where not only the view but also acoustic was the best, but it didn’t guarantee people didn’t pay attention to them. Especially to him. And third of all, this bastard would ruin his freshly ironed shirt. 

“Maybe. It isn’t enough to determine it.” 

Albafica stated calmly, looking at his shirt to make sure it wasn’t wrinkly. Don’t get him wrong, he didn’t care the slightest bit about his own appearance. If it was about him, he could come here wearing only sweatpants and a loose t-shirt. Much more mattered. Talent. Passion for music. But Albafica was a well-known person in this world and other people, apparently, cared also for looks. That’s why all participants came here wearing either suits or well picked dresses, clearly attempting to look more mature, serious and educated. 

Albafica was a 23 years old, already retired pianist. By the age of 16, he was already known in the entire Greece. By the age of 18, concert halls in the entire Europe fought for his performances, no matter how short they were.

He was raised by a single father, that instilled love to music into him. Rugonis, born in Japan, moved to Greece when he was about 15, for reasons he never wanted to explain to him. His father played multiple instruments, from violin, piano, to guitar and drums. He taught in various schools, if one tried to put together all the awards from competitions he had won, a single room wouldn’t be able to fit them. 

Albafica hardly felt forced to follow his father’s steps. As a young boy, he had many dreams and plans and yet… When he sat by the piano for the first time at the age of 6, the instrument stole his entire soul and heart, never giving them back. He was a quick learner, his passion adding to that. 

But he never wanted to be famous. Albafica simply wanted to play, and move hearts. 

His talent was immeasurable, just as his modesty. Albafica never felt better than anyone, never put himself higher only because he was gifted. 

The car accident Albafica and his father took part in shook the music community and for many, many months their names didn’t leave first pages of the most popular newspapers. 

Albafica lost his entire life. 

His father’s injuries were so fatal he didn’t even make it to the hospital. Albafica’s right hand was so badly broken he knew he won’t be able to play anymore. He had money to pay to the best doctors, both for additional surgeries and rehabilitation, but he couldn’t find strength within himself to do it. 

Sometimes Manigoldo poked him about that, considering two years already passed, but Albafica stopped replying, quickly switching to another topic. He still loved piano, its delicate sounds, graceful silhouette. But piano had given and taken everything from him. He didn’t want to try again.

He looked around in the big, but relatively empty hall, wondering why in the world he let Manigoldo convince him to come here. Obviously, it happened that occasionally Albafica complained at lack of work - his packed up schedule became smaller and smaller, until the days when routine killed him came. There wasn’t a need to practice before any performance or give interviews, he only made sure the music school of his father worked well. He didn’t even teach there.

“You know, there is this school competition! Maybe if you go and find a good pianist, you can take him as your pupil?”

Now as Albafica thought about it, it was stupid. His name was big in the industry, his knowledge even bigger… But he didn’t like spending time with people, especially not with loud brats.

Still, he promised Manigoldo. He had to come.

With his chin propped against the palm of his hand Albafica thought about excuses to return home… When a clear melody kicked his eardrums. He straightened up, immediately recognizing this song. It was one of his father’s compositions; rarely anyone played it. Big pianists preferred well-known songs of composers such as Chopin, Mozart, Bach. His father’s songs were to relax to, not compete.

And yet this child…

Albafica’s eyes landed on the stage. The pianist didn’t look like a baby. His face was covered with a mess of long, fluffy blonde hair, but even if it wasn’t, he sat too far away to see it. He focused on his fingers, seeing how skilfully and quickly they were moving. The tempo was different, foreign, Albafica didn’t know this version of this song. But there was something completely enticing about it, something that made his heart skip a beat in a way it didn’t skip for a long, very long time. 

His ears caught how the pianist skipped a not or two, but it didn’t seem to be bothering him. He kept on going like his only pleasure was playing this instrument. Like Albafca once did.

“Excuse me, excuse me, excuse me!” Manigoldo pulled him skillfully through the crowd of people, straight to the list of participants. Having a bestfriend like this sometimes had it ups, too.   
“Awe man.” Manigoldo turned to him with some sheet of paper in a hand, waving it in front of his friend. Albafica’s eyebrow raised in question.

“He’s Japanese. How the hell are we goin--”

“I speak Japanese. That’s not a problem.” Albafica said calmly and finally managed to take sheet of paper from Manigoldo’s hand. What greeted him was the picture of a cheerfully smiling boy, age, as it said, 16. It wasn’t the earliest way for piano performances, but luckily, he didn’t stepped over that magical age of 20. Maybe…

“You really want to try?” Manigoldo leaned against one of the pillars, looking around lazily. His eyes stopped at Albafica, and the man responded with a single shrug. He wasn’t sure. He was picky, everyone knew that. No one but his father was allowed to give him piano lessons. He couldn’t go along with everyone from his team, back then, and so he asked for them to be replaced. If Albafica couldn’t get along with this boy since the day one, he wasn’t going to try and push it. But he played his father’s song. He wanted to at least look into his eyes.

… He didn’t expect that boy was almost his height.

The main hall was crowded, but they found him sitting rather was away from the biggest gathering. Comparing with other participants, hardly anyone approached him for congratulations, but he didn’t seem too bothered, his lips curled up in a small, kind smile.

He looked almost shocked when Albafica approached him. Even if he did recognize it, he didn’t show it on his face.

There was something terribly familiar in those bright, golden eyes, the sensation so strong he couldn’t shake it off his shoulders.

“I want to be your teacher.”

Their journey began.

Albafica learned that, Shion too, has been raised by a single father and they rarely settled for more than a year in various countries and places. After six months of being in Greece he did pick up some dictionary, but not enough to communicate freely. He has been schooled at home and never attended any professional piano lessons. 

It’s not like Albafica asked about that, though. When Shion didn’t play, his mouth barely closed. He talked, and talked, and talked… It seemed almost as if he was relieved to finally be able to speak to someone who wasn’t his father.  
His hands hardly looked like hands of a pianist. They lacked delicacy and grace, being rather clumsy. They were calloused here or there, small scars on his fingers visible to Albafica only because he stared at them for a long time during their schooling time. 

“My father is a blacksmith, and I help him.” Shion explained to him once, clearly catching a little frown on Albafica’s forehead. He still couldn’t fully comprehend how clumsy, big hands like these were pulling out of piano the most beautiful and gentlest of sounds. It shouldn’t have been possible, and yet there was this boy, playing like there was no tomorrow.

Albafica cursed this impulsive decision more times than he didn’t. He wasn’t especially made to teach anyone, especially someone like _this_. The guy has been self-taught! He had little to no idea about notes, basing only on his hearing. He was loud, hardly looking like a pianist, not keeping his back straightened up while playing. And yet… And yet there was something in his music that made Albafica close his eyes and just enjoy these tunes. The way of Shion’s playing was so… Real and natural. Like he was born with it. 

“When we were still in Japan…” he started with a soft smile, fingers gently running around the white keys. He didn’t play a single note, it seemed as if Shion only wanted to feel them under his fingers. 

He played for hours straight that day, and Albafica finally forced him to take a break. Not to mention he himself couldn’t focus on any music anymore. Shion played so many songs it was a wonder they all didn’t get mix up in his head.

“I often needed to stay at school longer than everyone, because of my father’s work. There was a piano in the music room and I liked listening to the lessons there. Staying this long, I was able to sneak into this room without anyone noticing.”

“So you were breaking into a room only to play piano?” Albafica raised his eyebrow, shaking his head with disapproval. This behavior was so improper he almost didn’t have words!

“It was more like hitting the keys with my fists, but yes, you can call it like that.” Shion laughed, rubbing his neck through the fabric of scarf he has always been wearing. Albafica found it quite unusual, but he wasn’t the one to question anyone about their dressing preferences. 

This kid’s past didn’t interest him at all. Does his future? At some point, yes. He was his teacher right now. Obviously, he wanted the world to hear about him. Or more like… Because Albafica couldn’t play any music anymore, he wanted this kid to carry his father’s music to the world. 

Sometimes he found this desire quite selfish, but then Albafica quickly scolded himself. Wasn’t it the same way with Mozart, for example? Someone had to carry out their legacy. And Albafica found a perfect person. Mischievous… But perfect in terms of playing.

“Wrong.” Albafica scolded Shion for fiftieth time that day. The boy began to look slightly frustrated, but it didn’t change the stern look the other gave him. 

“You can’t be distracted while playing piano.” he added, not even getting up from the chair he settled behind Shion. He watched how his back tensed and heard a hopeless sigh. 

“I am not distracted. I want to do it my way.” Shion responded, making Albafica frown. He has never kept him from expressing himself through music, but his notes were now mixed up, speed too fast to convey real, melancholic meaning of this song. What Shion played sounded… Too cheerful. And his father has never--

“This song says something else than you think it does.” Shion added, and Albafica grew speechless for a first couple of seconds.

Surely, his pupil wasn’t the one to stay silent when he had his mind made up about something, but he had never retorted to him like that. Sometimes Albafica had a feeling that some tunes were played by Shion only to please him. His back was usually bent way more then, his fingers moving mechanically than with a real passion. Albafica didn’t want it, of course.. But having a taste of his father’s playing was everything he longed for, from the other side. 

“Why are you saying that?” Albafica finally got up and with arms crossed on his chest, approached the piano. Shion answered with a smile.

“Because I see images.”

“Images?”

“Mn.” 

But Shion was reluctant to talk about it anymore, so no matter what kind of question Albafica asked him about that, the boy avoided answering. Knowing some bits of his personality, Albafica even started to think he nothing but made it up. Children these days!

Three months passed like in a blink of an eye. Shouldn’t be considered strange, taking the fact that those were one of the most eventful months in Albafica’s life.

When he met Shion for the first time, he faced quite a lot of reluctance from his own side. He felt forced by circumstances and his own past to teach that boy. He knew that if Shion didn’t play his father’s song, Albafica would never pay attention to him. First amazement quickly got replaced with a realization he was average, and nothing more - his posture wasn’t the one of a pianist, his fingers weren’t the ones of a pianist, his lack of music knowledge, his stubbornness and unwillingness to listen to Albafica’s advices… 

And even if he was horribly passionate about that hobby, passion wasn’t always enough.

The improvement this boy did surprised even Albafica.

In the span of three months he learned perfectly how to read notes (even though he complained how boring it is at first) and at least, he wasn’t slouching this much while playing. His fingers, still calloused and too rough, in Albafica’s opinion, gained quite some amount of grace. 

His passion never changed, and passion mixed up with technique made Manigoldo gasp in shock when he heard him for the first time since two months. 

Albafica was prideful, but he understood that maybe he was wrong about some things.

Shion still didn’t get yet to explain to him what did he mean by saying he saw images through music, but Albafica didn’t press anymore. Maybe it was his imagination. Maybe it wasn’t.

It would have been overstatement to say he grew fond of Shion; he still liked his solitude the most. But Shion filled his days with quite a lot of work, fussing, sometimes even laughter. He didn’t dislike him and he didn’t like him. Albafica felt neutral about this child, but he appreciated his routine has been gone for good. 

Does Shion have any chance in becoming a big pianist? Albafica didn’t know, especially because his father seemed to be fond of idea of Shion getting the family business after him rather than anything else. But as long as he was under his wings, Albafica wanted to push him further and further. Show him to the world.

It started from small contests here or there, escalating to the national stage. And, even though Albafica hated to admit that, the thought of Shion being in the top ten made him quite proud.

He knew something was wrong just basing on the way in which Shion closed the door to their training room. It slapped louder than usual, and even if Shion wore the same smile on his face, his golden eyes bore something darker, different. Albafica couldn’t determine whether he ever saw that on his face.

And, Shion got late, despite knowing how much Albafica hated that. 

For a split second, Albafica wanted to ask what was wrong… But figured out it wasn’t his business at all. They were friends, but a master and a student. Shion’s private life didn’t interest him the slightest bit.

“You got late.” he remarked, however, and Shion sent him apologetic smile, throwing his bag in the corner of the room as he stepped closer to the piano. There was some obvious hesitation in his movements, it almost seemed as he was unsettled. Nothing of his impatience and passion was left when Shion run his fingers through the keys. 

It gave Albafica weird vibe, like something was about to finish. He remembered having the very same feelings a day before the car accident and a bile rose up his throat. Pain tasted bitterly. 

“I came to say goodbye.” Shion’s voice sounded distant, like from under the water. When Albafica realized that, he quickly scolded himself. And so what that it’s a goodbye? he didn’t expect Shion to be his pupil forever. He was almost 17, and he would start his own life sooner than later. Albafica had his own life, too, he tried to reason with himself. His pride made him hold his head up high, just like nothing happened. He didn’t ask Shion a single question, but apparently, he didn’t need to.

“My father decided to come back to Japan.” he saw Shion looking away and wondered, what caused it? He should be happy he was going back home. Albafice knew of at least a couple of good pianists able to pick up from where he left. It was sad to think Shion wouldn’t be able to participate in the contest… Unless…

“Will you be here for a competition?” he asked plainly, pretending he didn’t see how Shion curled his hands into fists so tight his knuckles almost went white. 

“No.” 

Albafica expected this answer. Either this decision seemed really rushed and not planned, or Shion hid this from Albafica. Somehow, the second possibility made him angry, his blood boiling inside. He didn’t waste so much time to now be left with nothing. To be dumped like this. 

“Very well then. We should finish our lessons since today.” even if he wanted to, Albafica couldn’t miss shocked face Shion gave him. He opened and closed his mouth for a couple of seconds, before ducking his head, defeated. Albafica didn’t want to give him privilege of thinking it hurt him.

When he considered it calmly, Shion was no one but just a student to him. Just a child he had taken under his wings to kill the time. There wasn’t anything noble in their relations, there was hardly anything, in fact. If he had taken one pupil, he could have as well take another one. Maybe even better.

The crowd cheered, which made the corners of his lips lift just slightly. He let himself for that, because when he bowed, his hair covered his face anyway. He felt pleasing pulsation along with his veins, going down from arm straight to his fingers. It was a funny feeling, tickling him a little. But it also made him feel alive, and satisfied. 

Albafica would have never thought he dared to stand on stage once more, performing songs he knew by heart since childhood. 

But life was surprising, proving him about it more than once.

When Shion left the training room six years ago, for three long months Albafica tried to find someone as a good replacement. He visited hundreds of auditions and competitions, he even joined some music lessons. It was all for nothing, however. Some of the children had amazing knowledge and talent, some of them were even better than he was in their age. No one, however… None of them had Shion’s magic. Albafica’s heart stayed unmovable. 

Sometimes he wished Shion could tell him more about the images he had seen while playing piano. 

Albafica didn’t miss him, and didn’t let himself to miss him. They weren’t particularly close. There were times, though, when Albafica typed his name into the browser, trying to find any trace. Any performance. Any sign that Shion didn’t give piano up. But there was nothing and after two years, Albafica stopped searching.

He didn’t want to live the past, because it already hurt him enough. Instead, Albafica decided to live the future.

Three years after parting his ways with Shion, Albafica began rehabilitation of his right hand. 

Four years after parting with Shion, he had given the biggest concert in his entire career. 

“Ah, Albafica! Great performance!” he thanked with a bow, planning to go to the dressing room to pick up his things as quickly as possible. It was exhausting week filled with various, smaller or bigger shows or interviews. 

_“Nothing that can’t be fixed.”_ Albafica stopped abruptly, hearing familiar voice coming from the corridor. It seemed deeper than he had remembered it, more mature, but no one else smiled through his words like that. No one else he knew, at least.

He thought he shouldn’t really stand there, but disappear as soon as possible. And yet…

_“Thank you! I will look forward to hearing from you.”_

He had seen cascades of fluffy hair and tried to hide in his own. Unsuccessfully.   
“Albafica.” when he looked up, Shion stood just a couple of meters away from him. He was even taller now, much more muscular. But he still had those chubby cheeks and neither his habit of wearing a scarf changed. 

He wasn’t a boy anymore, however. He was a fully grown-up young man. Quite… Handsome. Probably similarly bothersome, too. 

“Shion, it has been a while.” he replied, calmly and coldly. Albafica’s back were straightened up like a string. He hoped Shion would understanding this posture and simply walk away. Of course, Albafica didn’t reminiscence their lessons in any bad way. But the past was past. No need to live in it anymore. 

“I heard your performance. It was stunning.” Shion said instead of walking away, and Albafica eyed him rather suspiciously. What in the world was he doing there, in the first place?! Maybe right now he could tell him about these ima-- No, no. Albafica didn’t need any images. Even without them he was a great pianist, and most of all, pianist with pride. 

Shion left like their lessons meant nothing to him. Albafica wasn’t going to cry over spilled milk, then. 

“Would you like to grab a coffee together?”

“It’s improper. You used to be my pupil.” he heard Shion snickering against his naked thigh. 

Albafica’s long hair was spilled like an ink on the shiny, freshly finished piano surface. It was cold, a contrast to his heated up body. 

“Ten years ago.” Shion replied, pulling back. His lips created pink, heart-shaped hickey on the snow white skin on Albafica’s thigh. When Albafica looked at him, his cheeks were slightly flushed, eyes sparkling. 

Teasingly, Albafica let his feet to touch the keys. The sound was far from beautiful, but it always worked on Shion. Albafica wondered what kind of image he could see. 

A pianist, and a piano maker.

A piano, baptized before finding its new owner.


End file.
